Rabid
by bunnymatsuri
Summary: He could sense her pain. He knew that under her sparkly surface was a grimy underbelly. She could sense his too, she knew he was dangerous, but it only drew her in further. She also knew he would drag her right down to the depths of his hell. {Trigger Warning: Graphic Depictions of Eating Disorders, Violence, Sex, Drugs, Mental Illness, Suicide, and Murder}


_{Wildflower-Beach House}_

He had always admired her. She had this air about her, a classic, tragic beauty. She looked like a doll. Even when she was amongst her gaggle of friends smiling and carrying on he noticed that once they weren't looking, the corners of her rosy lips tugged downward and her eyes darkened once again. He didn't even know her name but he longed for her.

Even now as she stood alone in front of him in the lunch line with an apple clutched softly in her meticulously manicured ruby nails she bit her wobbling bottom lip and darted her emerald eyes around anxiously, she looked so pretty. "Yes?" Her eyes were curiously looking right into his widened ones.

He smiled and tried to shield her from his reddened cheeks by looking downward. "Sorry, I didn't realize I was staring." Oh god, that giggle. It almost killed him. She paid 50 cents for her apple and skipped away giving him a cheeky wave goodbye. His heart threatened to jump right out of his chest. He barely even noticed the lovely lunch lady trying to gain his attention to keep the long line awkwardly smiled and dropped his money on the counter and sprinted outside and sat under a tall tree. Coincidentally she was outside too, just across the quad she stood against the brick wall of the school staring at her little black shoes.

He watched as her dark chocolate locks swayed in the gentle Los Angeles breeze, her sweet gaze shifted to him once again. He shot her the same cheeky wave she had sent him moments before. Her plump lips parted and formed a smile, and her eyes rolled with faux annoyance. She huffed and walked over to him stopping at his feet. She stuck her hand out to meet him. "Hi, I'm Gracie, and you are?" Her sweet voice trailed.

"Tate." He shook her hand and held it for a moment longer than he probably should've. Her other hand toyed with the golden heart-shaped locket around her neck and a soft smile played on her lips. His heart nearly melted,he wanted to drown in her sweet voice.

She sat on her knees across from him and played with the apple in her hands. "Gonna eat that?" His innocent question struck a chord in her and her stomach dropped.

She stood up and smiled at him "Nah, you want it?" she said as she tossed the apple into his hands and walked briskly away.

Bile rose in her throat as she leaned against the door of the stall she frequently visited to calm her nerves. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, her eyes darted across the entire cramped space. She was seeing double and her hands shook and sweat dripped from them as tears rolled down her cheeks. Another wave of nausea came and she vomited into the toilet. She flushed it with her clammy hands and walked to the sink. Tears still rolling down her cheeks, mascara flowing, and red lipstick smeared up her paled cheek. She fixed what she could and made her way to the nearest exit, power walking home tears still rolling down her cheeks. She was utterly mortified, and she felt guilty and defeated. Her facade had broken, even if only for a second.

Her thighs were bloody and bruised. The cuts and burns stung and itched. Her mind was numb and static. She could barely feel the pain or the sheer curtain that would blow onto her as she stared at her face that she had scrubbed clean of any remnants of her panic attack. Her father and sister were watching television downstairs as her mother danced around the kitchen fetching this and that for whatever she was cooking, and Gracie sat on the edge of the bathtub staring into her own eyes.

The smell of garlic and onions from the kitchen only worsened her nausea. The thought of her father loudly slurping down his food and her mother shoveling more onto his plate as fast as he was eating it, the picture of her mother dumping heaps of mashed potatoes on her poor, 8 year old sisters plate, made her gag. She made sure they gobbled up every bite until they were 2 dress sizes larger than they were when they sat down. Gracie's eyes began to water again, she couldn't face her mother's insistent barking that Gracie was disgustingly thin, that a strong wind could come by and snap her in two.


End file.
